Nocturne
by Sariniste
Summary: Post-timeskip but no spoilers. What will Orihime do when a notorious escaped criminal comes knocking at her door? AiHime, lemon in second chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Nocturne – Chap. 1**

**A/N:** This story is dedicated to **unsunned**, who begged me for an AiHime lemon. The story takes place after the timeskip in canon.

**Summary:** Post-timeskip but no spoilers. What will Orihime do when a notorious escaped criminal comes knocking at her door? AiHime, lemon.

(Originally posted 3/1/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime was in her apartment, humming to herself as she prepared dinner. "Hmm, sweet potatoes and rice with plenty of butter should be tasty," she thought as she slid the sweet potatoes into the oven on a baking tray and set the timer for one hour. The rice was already steaming on the stove top.

She went back into the living room to continue working on her homework. It had been a year and a half since the fateful events in Soul Society and Hueco Mundo. Once they had all returned to the real world and Ichigo's powers had vanished, her life had become calm and peaceful again. She was enjoying school. It was fun to be a senior. She had just turned eighteen, and had been working part-time in a bakery restaurant after school, serving pastries to customers, and making good money with tips.

In the meantime, she had submitted college applications and was hoping to major in exobiology and eventually become an astronaut. Before turning to her textbook, she pulled out a glossy brochure from one of the universities and once again drooled over the beautiful facilities and exciting research programs they offered. She sighed briefly. The only difficulty was money. Her relatives had paid for her apartment and a small stipend for living expenses, but that would end once she graduated from high school. She would be expected to make her way on her own then. Unfortunately, college was expensive. She had applied for scholarships and financial aid, and had studied hard for the national exam. But she had no idea how well she had done or if she had won any of the scholarships she would need to continue her studies.

She put the brochure away. It did no good to worry about such things now. She knew times were hard; in fact, her manager at the bakery had let her know that a full-time job after graduation was unlikely. If she didn't win a scholarship to college, her future looked bleak with no job prospects nor any source of income. But Orihime had never been one to let gloomy possibilities get her down. If there was one thing she had learned from her supernatural adventures, it was to enjoy what you did have in the moment, and to treasure the people you cared about. You never knew what would happen next. In the meantime, she would enjoy her life and her many friends at Karakura High.

As she was pulling out her homework, there was a knock on the door. Her brow furrowed. Who could it be? She wasn't expecting anyone tonight. She walked to the door and opened it, and gave a gasp of shock.

Two men stood outside her front door, one supporting the other, who appeared to be badly injured. The injured one lifted his head and gave her a pained smile. "Inoue Orihime," he said in a deep, soft voice that was all too familiar to her, even though she hadn't seen him for seventeen months, since he left her behind in Las Noches after telling her he was going to destroy her home town. Aizen Sousuke, the traitor shinigami who had wreaked havoc in Soul Society and Karakura Town, who had kidnapped her and used her as a pawn in his schemes for world domination and godhood.

She had thought he was in Soul Society's prison, locked up for twenty thousand years. And yet here he was on her front doorstep. His face was drawn and pale, but his handsome visage had lost none of its arrogance and pride. He was wearing a black silk shirt and tight-fitting black trousers under a long black coat. His coat hung open to reveal a crude white bandage wrapped around his torso, and he was pressing one hand tightly to the bandage. Bright red blood was seeping onto the bandage below his hand, clearly a recent wound.

He was evidently in substantial pain, and she could not feel his spiritual pressure, surprising since the last time she met him she could barely stand up in his presence due to the weight of his reiatsu.

"Aizen-sama," she whispered, her eyes moving from his wound to his deep brown eyes.

Orihime hesitated only a moment. Then she realized that she could not turn away anyone in such poor condition, even if they were her enemy.

"Please come in," she said politely, stepping away from the door and inviting them into her small living room. The other man, a cruder, shorter version of Aizen, was wearing similar clothing and had attempted to slick back his dark brown hair into a style similar to Aizen's as though trying to copy him. But on him the hairstyle, rather than looking attractive, only served to enhance his ugliness. Nevertheless, he gently guided Aizen into Orihime's living room and helped him to a seated position on the couch.

"Orihime," said Aizen softly, "please forgive me for barging in on you like this. However, as you can see, I am in desperate need of your healing abilities. Would you mind…?" he asked, indicating the wound in his abdomen.

"Of course," she said. Raising her hands, she said the words she had not said for many months. "Souten Kisshun… I reject," and watched as the golden light of her healing shield sprang into existence around Aizen's body.

He sighed and relaxed, slumping back onto the couch, his eyes half-closing. The eyes of the other man widened with surprise at the brilliance of Orihime's healing light.

There was silence in the room as the healing process finished. Then Aizen sat up slowly, his long fingers tracing over the bandage on his torso. He smiled. "Thank you, Orihime. I am most grateful."

Orihime looked at him, her eyes wide. "What—" she began.

"Yes, you must be wondering why I am here," Aizen said in his rich, deep voice. He looked at her searchingly. "To tell you the truth, I am here because I have nowhere else to go. I have lost all my powers and have become the prey of every shinigami or hollow with a grudge against me." His voice turned bitter. "I managed to escape from the Soul Society's prison, only to find that my powers had been depleted and that every man's hand was turned against me. I fled here to the world of the living, but even here, my anonymity did not protect me. I was attacked by thugs on the street." He glanced at the man with him. "If it were not for the kindness of my friend here, who would prefer to remain anonymous, I would have bled to death on the street."

He looked back at Orihime. "I remembered your address and hoped that you might not turn me away." He smiled again. "Indeed, I am very grateful to you for fulfilling my hopes."

Orihime's eyes widened. "I— you're welcome," she said. "But where will you go now?"

Aizen looked at her again. "There is nowhere for me to go." His voice was calm. "I would like to stay with you for a while, and I would ask you to help restore my powers. I think, with your abilities, it would take several weeks of daily treatments." He gazed at her, pride warring with desperation on his face. Finally his expression changed and he bowed his head. "I know I have no right to ask this of you, Orihime," he said softly, "but I have no other option."

XxXxXxX

The next morning, the two men watched from behind the curtains as Orihime ran off to school. The shorter man looked at the taller, who was reclining on the couch, looking more well-rested after the first of Orihime's treatments.

"I can't believe she agreed to do this, Aizen-sama," he said respectfully. "Didn't you kidnap her and hold her prisoner once?"

Aizen's lips quirked in a knowing smile. "I knew she would agree to help," he said. He turned over on the couch and sighed. "She is incurably compassionate. I saw all this when she was my prisoner. Two of my Arrancar attacked her and tried to kill her. Not only did she refuse to fight back, but she even restored one of them to life after one of my Espada barged into the room and saved her by fighting off her attackers." He shook his head. "It was unbelievable. I did not understand it at first when I saw it on my video monitors. I had once thought to try to turn her to my side, but after that little demonstration, I realized it was impossible. However, as I had previously assumed, she can still be of use to me."

The other man grinned. "So you can use her now to restore your powers. Then what?"

Aizen smiled, and there was darkness in his smile. "After I am fully restored to power, then she will no longer be useful to me. I will then begin my plan to take my revenge on Soul Society… and I will give you power beyond your wildest dreams."

The man's eyes flared with greed and excitement. "What about her?" he leered. "Can I have her as my reward as well?"

Aizen looked at him, his expression calm and uncaring. "When I am done with her, you may use her as you wish."


	2. Chapter 2

**Nocturne – Chap. 2**

**A/N:** This is actually two chapters in one. I wrote both of them and was only going to publish the first one, but then decided what the heck. Why hold anything back? ;) So… lemon warning at the end. Also, be warned that both Orihime and Aizen will be a bit OOC, although I try to give suitable justification for their behavior…

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. All characters are 18 or older in this story.

(Originally posted 3/3/2011. Edited 3/26/2011 and 7/28/2011.)

XxXxXxX

Orihime walked briskly along the quiet streets of Karakura Town on the way home from school, swinging her book bag, humming a cheerful song under her breath. Despite appearances, however, she was concerned. She was worried about the man she had hidden in her apartment the night before; if Soul Society found out, she would surely be in trouble. However, she argued to herself, since he had lost all his spiritual pressure, it seemed unlikely they would find him. On the other hand, he was an important escaped prisoner. There was likely to be an active dragnet out for the man.

But how could she have turned him away when he came to her door, bleeding and powerless? She bit her lip. She had almost told Ichigo about it in school that day, but ultimately had decided against it. She was worried that her friend would think she was in danger and would try to attack Aizen. And she had given her word that she would help him. She couldn't betray anyone that way, even Aizen. Besides, the man had lost all his powers! Surely he was no danger to anyone, she rationalized, conveniently forgetting that she had promised to help restore his powers as well as allowing him to stay in her apartment.

It all seemed quite unreal after the very ordinary life she had been living for the past seventeen months. She turned her key in the lock of her front door, wondering if she would open it and there would be no one there. She pushed the door open.

Aizen was lying on her living room couch, wearing the same black silk shirt and black slacks he had worn last night, only now they were neatly pressed and free of bloodstains. The silk shirt was open at his throat, and he smiled at her as she entered. His face was paler than she remembered, but still beautiful with finely carved features and huge brown eyes, now heavily lidded as if with exhaustion. His soft brown hair was tousled, one curl hanging in his eyes in the style she remembered from her time in Hueco Mundo. He lifted one hand to her in a languid greeting.

"Good afternoon, Orihime," he said. His deep voice was lazy and resonant, and sent shudders throughout her body. "I trust you had a fine day at school?"

Orihime entered the room and closed the door behind her. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She still couldn't believe that Soul Society's greatest criminal, the Lord of Las Noches, was lying here on her couch asking her how her day went at school.

Trying to keep her cool, she smiled brightly and said, "Uh, hi!" She put one hand on the back of her neck. "Eheheh. School was fine! How are you doing?" she said with a nervous laugh, trying to take refuge in politeness.

Aizen's full lips curled in a smile. "I'm doing very well, thank you, Orihime." He gracefully pushed himself up to a sitting position on the couch, took a deep breath, and then leaned back against the cushions. "Thanks to your kindness for healing me." He yawned, showing the tips of sharp white teeth. "Although I'm afraid I still feel quite weak."

"Oh!" Orihime realized she had been neglecting her duties as a hostess. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink? Some tea perhaps?"

Aizen's eyes glinted. "Ah, Orihime," he sighed. "I would love some tea if it's no trouble."

Orihime shook her head. "No. No trouble at all." She bustled into the kitchen, dropping her book bag on a chair, and began getting out the tea implements. The familiar routine of making tea soothed her, distracted her from the unreality of the situation.

"Where's your friend?" she inquired as she put water on to boil on the stove.

"He went out to do some errands," Aizen said. "Also, I thought that you might have questions for me that you would prefer to ask in privacy." His voice was courteous.

Orihime looked at him through the pass-through window from the kitchen. He was reclining on her couch, one arm draped casually over the back, looking for all the world like an ordinary human come for a visit. She could sense nothing of his once overwhelming spiritual pressure. She poured tea into two cups and brought them out to the living room on a tray.

Aizen's eyes brightened at the sight of the tea. "Thank you very much," he said as he accepted one of the cups. He patted the couch beside him with a white, slender hand. "Come, sit here, Orihime, and let us talk." He smiled at her, a warm, welcoming smile, and sipped his tea. He took a long, savoring draught of the tea, closing his eyes with enjoyment. He set the cup down and Orihime saw his tongue circle his lips, capturing a drop of tea on his full lower lip. "Ah," he sighed. "This is delicious."

Orihime hesitated, and then moved to the couch. She sat down as far away as she could from him. She lifted her teacup to her lips and tried to quiet her whirling thoughts.

"First," Aizen began, opening his eyes again and gazing at her earnestly, "I want to assure you that you are in no danger from me. My powers are gone; and in any event, I am grateful to you for your help. If you are able to restore my abilities, I promise that I will not use them to harm you, nor any of your friends." His huge, beautiful eyes were full of sincerity.

Orihime let out a long breath that she hadn't known she'd been holding. "Thank you," she whispered. "I appreciate that." She twisted one of the paper napkins in her hands. She knew the man was a superb actor and that nothing he said could be counted on, and that Ichigo would undoubtedly tell her she was far too trusting, but she had decided, for the moment at least, to believe Aizen. She had found that people tended to rise to the expectations one had of them. Whether that could be true of Aizen or not was a matter beyond her judgment.

There was silence between them for a moment as they drank their tea. "How did you escape from prison?" she asked, and then blushed. Perhaps that was a question he didn't want to answer.

He smiled, something darker entering his expression. "Ah, you must allow me my little secrets." His smile broadened. "Suffice it to say that there are still those in Soul Society who remain loyal to me."

"What— what are you planning to do, after I heal you?" she asked.

He drained the teacup and set it down with another long, languorous exhalation. His smile was gentle as he said, "All I want now is to live a peaceful life far away from Soul Society. When we are done working together, I will leave your apartment and never darken your doorstep again. You will likely never hear of me again." He laid one long-fingered hand over hers on the couch. "I promise not to trouble you," he said softly.

Orihime started slightly at the warm touch of his hand on hers, but she did not pull away. Her hand tingled under Aizen's touch, and she looked directly up and into his lovely, melted-chocolate eyes. She remembered, with painful clarity, the odd feelings she had had in Las Noches so long ago, when this man had brought her to a private room and had fixed her with his gaze, telling her he trusted her and needed her help. She had been terrified and disbelieving. And yet… there had been another feeling as well, a strange, unwelcome— but exciting— feeling, rising from deep within her body.

Now she was feeling again that deep thrill in her core at Aizen's nearness. He was far too beautiful than anyone had a right to be, and she was not afraid of him now. His face was only inches from hers, and he was drinking her in with his eyes. He lifted his other hand, raised it to her face, stroked her cheek gently. His fingertips felt like they left a trail of sparks along her skin, and her breath caught.

"You have become so beautiful, Orihime," he whispered, sighing. "It has been a long time since I have seen anything of beauty…" His voice trailed off almost to nothing. "Avici was… not very pleasant…"

She looked up at him, unable to look away, caught by his gaze as though hypnotized.

Then, abruptly, he seemed to come to himself. He broke eye contact with her and pulled his hands away. "Forgive me," he said, looking away. "I'm afraid I've been in prison for too long. It is… somewhat overwhelming to be sitting here, so close to a beautiful woman." He drew himself away from her. "I apologize. I promise to remain on my best behavior from now on." He looked back at her, a glint of amusement visible in his eyes as he quirked an ironic brow at her.

She smiled at him and reached out her hand to his this time. "Oh, please don't worry, Aizen-sama. I understand what you must have gone through."

The look in his half-closed eyes was dark. "Do you now?" But he did not pull his hand away from hers, instead turning it and idly playing with her fingers. She looked down at their joined hands and watched the sinews of his elegant, strong hand move under his pale skin. Her hand tingled at his touch and shivers ran up her arm. Why did she react so strongly to his touch, to his proximity? This was the man Ichigo had sacrificed his powers to defeat; surely her treacherous feelings were wrong, so very wrong. She slowly pulled her hand away and sat up straight.

"Um, don't you think we should try another one of your treatments now?"

He regarded her from under his lids and made a languid gesture of assent, then gave her a smile that held nothing but warmth and gratitude. "Of course. I am ready whenever you are."

She raised her hands and brought her power to bear once more, trying to sense the buried kernels of reiatsu within the man before her, attempting to re-energize his power centers once again. His power was faint… so weak, almost nonexistent. She could sense the damage done by the heavy limiters that had once bound him; there was a cold, clammy reiatsu that was wound around his spiritual body still. It was surprising that he was even able to sit up, she thought as she gently tried to tease out the cold tendrils of binding energy that still clung to him, sapping his physical as well as his spiritual energy.

Her power rose as the bright golden glow increased, and she could visualize the effects as clammy tendrils of fog gradually fading away, bit by bit, under the warm glow of the sun. She could hear Aizen's long, pleased sigh as her powers worked their magic on the remnants of the bindings and small nuclei of power began to flare at various points throughout his body.

When she was finished he was asleep, breathing peacefully and slowly, lying there on her couch. Orihime stood looking down on him for a moment. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, if by helping heal Aizen she could be contributing to further bloodshed. Although he had promised he wouldn't hurt her or her friends, she had noticed that he had made no promises about Soul Society or the Vizards. And how far could she trust his promises?

Yet, he looked so innocent, lying there asleep on her couch, so vulnerable, as she had never seen him when he was the powerful Lord of Hueco Mundo. His long lashes lay over the pale skin of his cheeks, the full lips gently parted. In repose, his face looked like that of a sleeping angel. Was it possible that his time in prison could have softened him? It touched her deeply to think that he had come to her for help, out of all the souls in the three worlds. Did he truly have no one else he trusted? She felt pity for him bloom in her heart. He, who had once sat on top of the world, had been forced to beg for help from a mere human girl, whose only connection with him was that he had once kidnapped her. It was dreadfully sad, for him to have been brought so low. Perhaps this was the fate of someone who had never trusted anyone, someone who had never found companions to rely on. Ichigo had mentioned to her that he had sensed only loneliness in Aizen's blade, there at the end.

The man had chosen the solitary way to power, and had failed. Now, fallen, he had no one to turn to. Her heart squeezed with pity again. Surely, at the very least, she could help restore him to his natural state. She had seen no sign of the Hougyoku and wanted nothing to do with the device she considered evil. Perhaps, if Aizen were restored to normal, the way he was before he had been seduced by the lure of absolute power the Hougyoku had offered him, he could find some modicum of happiness and would no longer feel the need to dominate everything and everybody. She realized that Ichigo would likely say she was hopelessly naïve, and she laughed to herself as she realized it was likely true. Nevertheless, she thought with renewed resolve, she was through with letting others decide her path for her. She knew what she felt was right and she would do what she needed to do.

As she got up, her gaze fell upon Sora's altar there in her living room. Her brother had done what was needed for her, taking her away from the parents who abused her. He didn't have to do it. It would have been easier for him to run away on his own, to find work without having to care for a young child. Surely she hadn't deserved his kindness, his love… she certainly had heard often enough from her mother that she was worthless and undeserving. And yet, Sora had done the foolish thing, burdening himself with a child to take care of. His love had changed her, saved her. She knew that without Sora's love and affection, she would have been a completely different person. It was possible that one person could make such a tremendous difference in another's life, altering their personality, even their very soul. Why could she not do the same here?

She sighed as she tucked a blanket around the sleeping man. When it came down to it, she would never understand politics, strategy, or wars. What mattered to her, what she found enduring, was love and friendship. What it meant when one soul reached out to another. That, to her mind, was true power. And it was why she felt sorry for Aizen, since with all his power and influence, he had never known what it was like to have the one thing that mattered.

In Las Noches, he had been distant from her and from everyone else. Now, he was on her level, merely an ordinary human. Even though she knew he was not trustworthy, she decided to help him as one human being should help another. She told herself it had nothing to do with these odd feelings she had when she was around him.

XxXxXxX

It was dark. Orihime was running, running in terror from an attack from which there was no escape. Her breath came panting in her chest and she felt the tightness there that signaled that she was nearly at the end of her endurance. Her footsteps echoed in the dank tunnel, slapping against concrete and splashing through puddles. Behind her she could hear the heavy, pounding steps of her pursuer.

Suddenly she came to a fork in the passage. She did not have time to think about which way to go. She darted quickly into the left fork and kept on running through the dimness, the long tunnel arcing off to the left. Then she stopped in sudden horror as she faced a blank concrete wall. It was a dead end. Gasping, her heart aching within her chest, she spun around, only to see a huge, faceless attacker coming straight at her. He growled and lifted one meaty fist to strike her.

Orihime woke up with a strangled scream in her throat, heart pounding, covers twisted about her on the bed. She lay for a moment looking up at the dim ceiling of her apartment bedroom, trying to calm herself after the nightmare. She lay there shuddering; it had been worse than usual.

There was a click at her bedroom door and Orihime gasped, sitting up and clutching the sheets to her chest. The door opened and a tall figure came in. Orihime's heart thudded another moment until she remembered she had had guests in her apartment the past few days. The man lifted a hand and a small light bloomed in his palm. In the dimness, she could see Aizen, wearing a white bedroom robe and blinking sleepily. Over the past few days of treatments, enough of his power had been restored that he could manipulate small amounts of energy again. Orihime had spent the days in school acting as though everything were normal, and in the evenings working at healing Aizen and trying to ignore both her worries and her strange, conflicting feelings about the man himself.

"Orihime, forgive my intrusion," he said, "but you just screamed quite loudly. I wanted to make sure that no one was attacking you."

"Oh," said Orihime, her heart still pounding, "no, it's nothing. Just a nightmare. I'm sorry to wake you up, but I'm fine now."

The light intensified slightly, until she could see a look of concern on Aizen's face in the dim light. He was examining her expression carefully. Then he came forward and sat on the bed beside her.

"Forgive me, Orihime," he said, "but you do not look 'fine.' Your scream was enough to wake the dead. It's fortunate my companion is such a sound sleeper." He paused to scrutinize her. "Can I get you some tea?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I'm okay."

"Do you often have these nightmares?" he asked, his eyes fixed on her.

She looked away. "Usually about one a week," she whispered. She didn't know why she was talking about it to this man, a stranger, a former enemy… but somehow it seemed she needed to talk. Somehow it was comforting to have someone come to her room when she had a nightmare, the way Sora had once done. "It was my father," she confessed. "He was chasing me down a tunnel, until I got trapped in a dead end." She gulped and took another harsh breath. "Then I turned and he started to hit me the way he always did…"

To her surprise, Aizen moved closer to her and put an arm around her. He was warm and she leaned into his body. She suddenly found tears squeezing out of her eyes. Sora had used to come to her room whenever she had a nightmare; he would put his arms around her and tell her she was okay.

The tears began slipping faster down her cheeks. No one had held her this way for a very long time, and she had forgotten how much she missed it. How much she missed Sora. She turned her face into Aizen's warm chest and sobbed. Both of his arms were around her now, and he was stroking her hair.

"Hush," he said softly. "Shh, it's all over now. You're safe." He continued to stroke her and murmur in a soothing voice, and somewhere in a tiny corner of her mind she wondered what kind of game the once-powerful overlord of Las Noches was playing, that he had actually come to her room to comfort her after a nightmare. No one other than Sora had ever done this for her. Certainly her parents had never done anything like this. If she did make a noise in the middle of the night, they would either ignore her cries, or, more likely, would beat her for waking them up. She gasped again and tried to get her memories and her sobs under control.

Aizen looked at the young, vulnerable girl sobbing in his arms and considered his next move. He could not deny that he was powerfully attracted to her, had been interested in her ever since Ulquiorra had brought back those video reports on her nearly two years ago. He had commissioned additional reports on her, and likely knew more about her early history and her family than she did herself. He recalled some of the intriguing circumstances of her birth. It was indeed possible that she could play a further role in his plans beyond restoring his powers now.

But the most critical task he needed her for was the restoration of his powers. It galled him to be so helpless; it made him burn with fury to be weak. It was absolutely imperative that she continue to cooperate, that her friends not convince her to stop. He needed her desperately, as much as he hated to rely on anyone else. He had been playing on her compassion and had been tightly controlling his own sexual attraction to her, in order to keep their relationship chaste for very practical purposes. He knew he could charm her into lovemaking at any time, but he also knew it might make her feel used, and she might take it into her head to stop the treatments or even tell her friends about the dangerous criminal she was hiding in her apartment. That must not happen.

On the other hand, he mused, this was an opportunity that should not be allowed to pass. He settled upon a somewhat unconventional approach to take and smiled to himself. She still had this obsession with her dead brother; he could use what he knew about their relationship to his advantage, secure an emotional connection to Orihime that might bind her further to him as well as satisfy certain desires that had gone all too long without release. It would have the added appeal of regaining some element of control over a soul whose abilities he required. And... he had to admit there might be more than practicality involved. He did find her and her abilities fascinating, and he was well aware that she was also attracted to him, although she had been denying it to herself. It might be... interesting to see what could happen between them.

"Orihime," said Aizen in his deep, rich voice that now sounded so soothing. "It's all right now." He smiled at her. "Why don't I lie down next to you until you go back to sleep?"

She stared at him; it all felt so unreal, still like a dream. She knew he was a master at playing a role, and now, it seemed, he was playing the role of the kindly convalescent, a person who showed his gratitude with concern for his benefactor. Was he still hoping to manipulate her into complying with his wishes? But she had already agreed to restore his powers, had been spending the past few days doing just that. And how did he know exactly what Sora used to say when she had nightmares? Moreover, she should definitely not allow this man in her bed, not when she had been so busy over the past few days trying to suppress the treacherous feelings she had for him. The rational side of her mind told her that he must have some ulterior motive in acting like this; but the irrational side was lapping it up, telling her to shut up and enjoy it, that for whatever reason he was doing it, she should take pleasure in the attention of this beautiful man.

After a long beat of silence between them, she realized that she could not turn down his offer. She snuggled back down into the covers and curled against him as he lay down beside her.

"Ah," she sighed, and felt herself relaxing, utterly, as she could not remember relaxing for a very long time. To be held in the warm arms of someone who showed concern for her… she remembered that she had also been suspicious of Sora at first, when he held her. Because in her short experience, being held had always been followed by pain. But eventually she had learned to completely relax in Sora's arms. And now, she felt so safe again, so comforted, the strength of Aizen's muscular arms around her, engulfing her, the faintly woodsy scent of his body, the softness of his hands on her skin.

Then something changed. She breathed in a deep lungful of sweet-smelling air, and opened her eyes in shock at the difference in the atmosphere. She was no longer in her small, shabby bedroom, but was lying on a soft pile of— she took one in between her fingers, unbelieving— white rose petals, in a clearing in a forest. She sat up, her jaw dropping, to gaze around her in wonder. The bed of rose petals shifted under her, soft, yielding, and fragrant, like a thousand velvet fingers caressing her skin. Above her the night sky arched, brilliant with stars and clouds of light. A crescent moon hung in the branches of a huge tree that stretched far, far above her. The air was warm and perfectly still. The scents of other night-blooming flowers filled the air: jasmine, cereus, as well as multiple roses. Faintly, off in the distance, she could hear the plashing of a brook.

The man beside her wore a faint smile, eyes dark with amusement at her wide eyes. "Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's beautiful!" she gasped. "But— where are we?"

"We're still in your apartment, my dear. It's merely an illusion. My powers are starting to come back. This is my first connection with Kyouka Suigetsu— the first contact I've had with my sword since I was sealed." He trailed his fingertips over her eyebrows with a placid smile. "It's a small thing, and I am still weak. No doubt you could break the illusion should you wish to. But I wanted to give you a gift, as a small thank-you for your kindness to me."

She looked around again. "This is amazing," she said. She was indescribably touched that he would use his powers in this way, rather than as a weapon of deceit or destruction. She had caught another tantalizing glimpse of the man beneath the warrior, the man, she thought, that he could have been had he made different choices in his life. She looked back at Aizen. "It's so beautiful. Is it a real place?"

His eyes took on a faraway cast. "It's based on a place I once knew. Long, long ago." He paused to disentangle a rose petal from her hair, and then laughed in an open, comfortable way that she had never seen in him before. "Of course, it's minus the insects and the dirt." He gave her an amused, lazy smile. "Illusion has its advantages."

"Yes," Orihime sighed. "Thank you. This is a magnificent gift." She looked back at the man lying beside her, leaning on an elbow, one hand propping up his head casually as he smiled at her. There was more light in his eyes now; he was no longer so enervated and pale now that she had given him a few of her treatments. Here, the beauty of his features was enhanced by the moonlight, every line of his face traced by silver light, giving him an otherworldly appearance. His full lips quirked as he met her gaze and held it. She could feel his warmth beside her, like a magnet, drawing her closer to him. She felt as though her body was made up of a million iron filings that were all lining up under his magnetic influence, tingling, and she felt herself shiver, and almost unbidden, move closer to him until her face was only inches away from his, fixing her eyes on his large dark ones.

Then, slowly, slowly, she brought her lips closer and closer to his until they touched. Immediately, it felt as if sparks jumped from his skin to hers and she drew back a fraction of an inch. She licked her lips involuntarily and moved forward again, this time pressing her lips to his in a kiss. After a brief hesitation, she felt his hand slide around the back of her head and he kissed her back, gently nipping at her lower lip, then taking her lips in his and kissing her softly and thoroughly. His lips felt as soft and velvety as the rose petals underneath her, and she felt the last of her resistance, of her suspicion, falling away from her.

But after a moment, he broke apart from her and gazed at her. "Are you quite certain you want to do this, Orihime?" he asked in his deep voice, and she felt as though its vibrations were piercing her body to its core.

She slipped her hands under his robe and drew the lapels apart, exposing his sculpted chest to the moonlight. She ran her hands along his torso, feeling the smooth, muscular body beneath, and heard his breath catch. She sighed. "I've wanted to do this ever since I met you in Hueco Mundo," she whispered, then bent her lips to his chest, softly kissing one of his nipples.

She heard him laugh deep in his throat. "Indeed." Inwardly, he was highly amused that she was the one taking the initiative. Still, he considered, it was important that he make sure that point was emphasized in her mind. If she came to believe later that he had seduced her, she might feel betrayed enough to discontinue the healing process. He would need to make it clear that any dalliance they had tonight was purely physical in nature, and to make very sure that she was aware that he was not pretending to have any feelings for her. Thus, he would give her a rare gift tonight: truthfulness.

She trailed her fingertips over his throat, collarbones, and chest. As she was leaning into him again, he caught both her wrists and stilled them.

"Orihime," he said, "if you go much further with this I shall not be able to stop myself." She looked up at him. There was a serious look in his eyes. "Think of whom you are with. You know who I am and what I am."

Orihime shook her head stubbornly. "I know. And right now I don't care."

"Don't care that they call me a traitor and a villain, a man with no morals or principles whatsoever?" His eyes flashed with amusement. "I exploit people for my own selfish purposes. I am untrustworthy, a liar, the most dangerous criminal in three worlds. I am using you now, and when I am done with you, I will leave you." His lips curled in a wicked smile and his dark eyes danced with mischief under their heavy lids as he gazed at her from inches away.

"I know," Orihime sighed, splaying her hands over his chest again. "I know you will go away soon, and I will never see you again, and it's wrong of me to be healing you, it's wrong of me to feel this way about you. Who knows what you will do to me, to my friends, to the world, after I help you?" She looked up at him and her mouth firmed. "But none of that matters to me right now."

He laughed and ran one finger down her cheek. "You have surprised me, Orihime. Few people manage to do that." He regarded her lazily as his finger slipped down over her throat and trailed down to the neckline of her nightgown. Her chest heaved under his touch and he gave her a dark smile. "Very well, since you have no illusions, so to speak, as to my intentions here tonight, I will consider you duly warned."

He shifted on the bed of rose petals and took her face between his warm palms. She closed her eyes as he brought his lips to hers, kissed her again. He parted his lips and she felt his tongue teasing at the corner of her mouth. Her lips opened and his tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting and exploring her as no one had ever done before. She could not believe how it made her feel, how her entire body felt on fire, tingling there upon the rose petals, feeling as though she were a flower herself, a rosebud opening in the moonlight. She pressed her hips against Aizen's body, feeling his warmth through the thin fabric of her nightgown, thrilling with a heavy rush of desire as she felt his arousal hard against her thighs.

Unhurriedly, with another dark glance from beneath his eyelids, he began unbuttoning her nightgown, stopping every now and then to kiss and lick her throat, to slide his long, clever fingers beneath the fabric of her gown, to caress the skin above her breasts until she arched against him. The need was rising in her now, her hormones suddenly vocal and demanding. He laid back the fabric of her nightgown and bared her breasts to the balmy night air and she felt the breath hiss out of her at the sensation. He cupped them both within his warm, warm hands, stroking them with long, slow circles, rolling her nipples between his fingers until she cried out with desire.

He gave her a deliberate, languorous smile and slid her nightgown completely off her body. She gasped under his touch, and he stopped a moment to gaze up and down her body, his eyes dark with pleasure. She followed his gaze involuntarily, looking down at herself as the starblaze shone on her naked body, making it gleam from within like alabaster.

"You're beautiful, Orihime," he whispered as he hooked his fingers around her panties and slowly, tantalizingly, slid them down her legs and tossed them off the bed of petals. In a single leisurely, graceful movement he divested himself of his robe. He wore nothing underneath and she couldn't help a sudden intake of breath as she saw Aizen naked for the first time. Her gaze lingered over his lean, muscular frame, the long, elegant limbs, firm and well-defined flesh, the grace and beauty that marked every part of him. Then she looked down at his arousal… and felt herself blushing furiously, tingling deep within her core, feeling as though she were flushing all over her body. She looked back up at his face and saw the wicked smile, the knowing eyes looking back at her. She reached for him and pressed herself against him in hopeless desire.

She knew that his warning was truth, as he had perhaps never before spoken truth to her, and yet, and yet… all she wanted for tonight was for their bodies to twine and merge together, to give him pleasure, and in turn to feel pleasure from his touch. He took her breast within his mouth, licked her nipple agonizingly slowly, kissed up and down the length of her body as she mewled in unrestrained delight. She had never felt this way before, had never felt this yearning, this intense, physical longing that seemed devoid of rationality. He was stroking her between her thighs now, fingers moving expertly to find her already wet and waiting for him. She gasped and writhed at his touch and ran her hands through his thick, curly brown hair, took his shaft between her fingers and swirled them around his silky length, felt his answering shudder of pleasure.

He took her hips between his hands and held her tight against him, pushing his own hips forward and slowly entering her, watching her carefully with heavy-lidded eyes. She closed her own eyes and sighed, long and blissfully, feeling him slip within her like heated silk, slowly, slowly, so that she gradually relaxed around him, taking him within her, enfolding him. He began to move, excruciatingly slowly at first, prolonging each stroke until she wanted to scream, to grab him, to take him. But all she did was moan and clutch at him as he looked down at her with a dark, amused expression, until she saw her own desire mirrored in his eyes, hazing them as he began to thrust into her more vigorously, his eyes closing as he lost himself in her.

Around them, more white rose petals began falling from the sky, swirling around them, forming a white snowstorm of delicate velvet, thousands of caresses tingling on her skin, as Aizen opened his dark, dark eyes and held hers with them, and together they rose up the long, enduring slope of pleasure, taking and completing one another, the rhythm of their movements instinctual, coordinated, until at last they reached the crest, skating on the edge of the world together, as the utter ecstasy seemed to go on and on forever, their bodies shuddering in release together as a blizzard of rose petals enveloped them, embraced them, encircled them in a private, secret world of delight where only tonight mattered and there was no thought of what tomorrow would bring.


End file.
